Bambi became cross and asked, “Will my father speak to me?”
“Of course he will, my child,” his mother promised him, “when you’re grown up he’ll speak to you and sometimes he’ll let you be with him.”
In silence, Bambi went closer to his mother, his mind filled with thoughts about the appearance of his father. “He’s so beautiful!” he thought, and then again, “so beautiful!”
His mother seemed able to read his mind, and she said, “If you’re still alive, my child, if you’re clever and avoid danger, you’ll be as strong and as beautiful as your father, and you’ll carry a crown on your head, just like his.
Bambi took a deep breath. His heart became big with happiness and anticipation.
[CHAPTER] 5
Time went by and Bambi went through many new experiences. It sometimes even made him dizzy having so many things to learn.
Now he knows how to listen. Not just hear what is happening nearby, so close that it forces itself into your ears. No, there is certainly no art in that. Now he can listen properly and with understanding to anything that happens however gently it moves, he can listen to every fine rustling that the wind brings in. He knows, for instance, when there is a pheasant running through the undergrowth; he recognizes quite exactly that gentle scurrying that continually stops and then starts again. He can even recognize the mice in the woods from the sound they make as they run to and fro, from the little journeys they make. Then there are the moles who rush round in circles making a rustling noise under the elder bushes when they’re in a good mood. He knows the brash, clear call of the falcons and listens to it as it changes to an angry tone when a hawk or an eagle comes close; that makes them cross because they fear their territory might be taken from them. He knows the sound of the woodland pigeons as they flap their wings, the lovely, distant swish of the ducks as they flap their wings, and many other sounds.
He is slowly learning to understand things by his sense of smell. He will soon understand them as well as his mother. He can understand what he is smelling as soon as he draws in a breath. Oh, that’s clover and that’s rowan, he thinks when the wind is blowing in from the meadow, and he can smell when his friend, the hare, is outdoors; I can tell that very well. Also, in among all the smells of leaves, soil, herbs and wild onions, he can tell when the polecat is going past, by putting his nose to the ground and testing it thoroughly he can tell that the fox has been there, he might notice that somewhere nearby there are his relatives, Auntie Ena with the children.
He is now completely at ease with the night and he no longer feels such a great longing to go and run about in the light of the day. Now, he is happy to spend his days lying in the little, shady space in the undergrowth with his mother. He hears the heat of the air, and he sleeps. Now and then he wakes up and listens and smells, which is the proper thing to do. Everything is as it should be. There are only the little tits who would sometimes chatter with each other, the midges in the grass – who are almost never able to stay quiet-talk among themselves, and the wood pigeons never stop proclaiming their gentleness, and do so with enthusiasm. What does all that matter to Bambi? He goes back to sleep.